Song of the Strongest
by Kyle Castorena
Summary: 30 years ago an incident took place in Gensokyo nearly ripping the land asunder. The only thing is, nobody has any memory of it happening. Help must be sought from a drug addict and second-rate fantasy author. By no means a two-bit storyteller, she's a woman who can physically travels between worlds as she dreams. Will they be able to discover the truth in The Strongest finale?
1. Prologue

Prologue

Everyone always called it the "Haunted Han House" in their horrible Foreign accents. What bothered Maribel the most wasn't the rumors which surrounded her home, but that they couldn't even pronounce her last name correctly. "It's Hearn!" she'd cry silently to herself. Asians always had problems with it do to the limitations of their written language. On paper it appears one way, but spoken another. She'd lived in this land for several years now so she knew the reason why, but she hated correcting everyone every time the mistake was made. Let's not even get started on Maribel.

So when a knock came at the door Maribel the child was obviously surprised. Kids from the neighborhood would, on occasion, come up the hill to her Western-style Mansion and enter her yard as a test of courage. Frequently would it occur around Summer and Autumn. Maybe such things were considered coming of age? Regardless, knocking was rare. Perhaps a guest for her Grandpa?

Maribel lives with her grandfather in Japan. A horror author, he has plenty of time to raise his son's only child. When guests arrive it's usually his publisher or likewise business colleges. It's not unique that they receive guests, but it is rare. Normally they meet online or somewhere deeper in the city (as the mansion is well out of the way). However, her Grandfather isn't in at the moment, so it would have to be a mistake in scheduling for someone to arrive right now. In any case the door wasn't going to answer itself.

Japan is a peaceful country and Maribel was never told not to answer the door to strangers, so stands on her tippy-toes to unlatch the deadbolt without hesitation. It takes a bit of effort, but eventually she gets it. After going through great pains to unlock the door, she opens it and greets her guest.

"Hello?"

It's a portly older man not even twice her height. He has a big round belly and funny mustache. Even with his dull brown cap she can tell he's bald.

"Hello? I'm looking for a Miss Maribel. I'm told that she lives here."

A guest for her? Now that's rarer than rare! Somewhat excited, the child can't wait to speak up.

"I'm Maribel!"

"You?" it's obvious the older gentleman is surprised. But he laughs and speaks with good humor, "Goodness, with how educated you present yourself I expected you to be older. But I'm glad you're no less lovely than I anticipated."

While being flattered would always cause her to blush, he's speaking like he knows her. She certainly doesn't remember meeting a man like this.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh, my apologies!" He takes off his cap and bows (he is indeed bald), "We've spoken before on the net, though I'm not sure if you remember me. I go by the handle BrotherWulf, little miss DreamWalker."

This comes of great surprise to Maribel. If he's talking about chatting on the internet, he can only mean the mythology and fantasy website she herself publishes. Being that as it may, all of her personal information should have been hidden! Not only had he found her name, but where she lives!

"Oh my! Sorry," he suddenly apologizes, realizing her rapidly growing concern. "I know it's an invasion of privacy, but I absolutely had to meet you. My name is Herr Hróðvitnisson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She may only be a child, but Maribel knows when something is wrong. If it were about her website, they could have continued to speak online. That he came all the way to Japan from, judging from his name and accent, Germany wouldn't be for some simple kind of question. What's more, that this is happening to _Maribel Hearn_ is especially alarming.

"Why are you here?" she realizes far too late the danger in which she's placed herself.

"Please, there's no need for you to be afraid of me. I actually haven't came to Japan just for you. Perhaps if I tell you the whole story it will help alleviate your concerns. The reason I have come to Japan, and to you, is because of Gensokyo."

Hearing _that_ name, she immediately realizes what this is all about. All the fears and anxieties vanish in an instant, and are instead replaced with sharp calculations and intellectual deductions. "Gensokyo" isn't a name you just pick up on the street. Those who know it could be counted on two hands, with the fingers dropping the closer they get to the truth. For such a man to ask her of this can only mean he knows about her. He _knows_.

But she still must play the game, "What are you talking about? What do you mean 'Gensokyo?'"

Herr Hróðvitnisson snorts under his breath, "I'm looking for something that has gone _lost_. I've heard Gensokyo is a place that likes to pick up things that lose their way, or have nowhere left to go."

He doesn't divulge how he came to know it's name, be it's clear he understands what kind of place it is.

"I don't know what you're looking for. Why have you come to me?"

"That I'm curious about indeed. I haven't come to know of you through your website, I came to your website _to_ come to know you. You might not realize it yourself, but Maribel Han has come to be known as a very dangerous existence. It's-"

"My name is Hearn," she tells him in a tone with the sharpness of a razor's edge.

Pleasantly surprised, he giggles upon the sight of the young girl baring her fangs.

"Alright, Little Miss _Han_, your reputation is far greater than you can even fathom. From the stories, or maybe I should call them myths or legends, you can freely travel between worlds. This is the reason I have sought you out. I need you to take me to Gensokyo."

Maribel's shoulders tremble a bit. It is as she expected. He's come to her for _that_, but he's been misinformed.

"I cannot take you to Gensokyo," she tells him.

"Why?" his foot stomps into the ground, shaking nearly the entire mansion. For this moment he appears much more than a simple older gentleman. He's more of a monster. A golden-eyed monster.

If her grandpa were in the house, he'd be charging down the stair with his shotgun. They have no live-in servants, only housekeepers, and today isn't one of their work days. She's all alone with this increasingly scary man! However, she's far from helpless herself. If push comes to shove, he won't be able to capture her, now matter how scary he's being. But what he wants she cannot give.

"You've been misinformed," there's no point hiding it any longer, he already knows too much and lying could actually be more dangerous. "I _can_ travel between world, but I can't do it _freely_."

All that pent up energy vanishes from Hróðvitnisson's face. At the first sound of it, a part of him completely believes her, but he can't just let it end this simply.

"I don't believe it! Your name is too widespread to be _this_ inaccurate. I've gone through too much trouble just to learn your name and this Gensokyo! I can't leave empty-handed!"

He's getting frustrated, not giving a single hint of resignation. This man doesn't seem the type to lash out because he's disappointed, but he does the type who'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. If she reasons that she can't give it to him, he'll likely leave.

She explains, "It's in my dreams. When I sleep, I awake in a different world. Most of the time I'll just be in a forest, or graveyard, or maybe the spirit realm. I travel between this world and theirs', but I can no more control my destination than a person can control what he dreams. Most of the time I don't know where I am unless I find something I recognize. Or, on occasion, I run across people, or monsters."

"I see," he seems to understand. "So you're more like a Native American Spirit Walker. I've met plenty of those, so how has your reputation gone so embellished?"

He's wrong. She's not like those rare talents whose souls travel once in a state of meditation. But by mentioning this, Hróðvitnisson has clued Maribel that she isn't the first person he's come to seek about traveling between worlds. If what he seeks is in Gensokyo, the path might already be closed. If he's made enough noise to be put onto _their_ radar, he might already be in considerable danger. She has to be careful how she deals with him.

"What's so important that you go to Gensokyo?" she asks, clearly demonstrating the rapid shift in power between the two.

He retains silence.

"Gensokyo isn't a place that can be simply accessed, and what's more, once you go you never come back. A ticket to Gensokyo is one-way. Would you really take such a risk on the _chance_ that what you're looking for is there?"

"Yes," his voice carries the enthusiasm of a man in his prime.

She can't ignore such determination, "Wait here for a moment."

Actually, "here" isn't so great. Their conversation hasn't gotten further than the front door. She leads him to the Sitting Room where he can rest his feet. Ten minutes later she returns with a tray of tea she painstakingly brewed atop a silver platter, as well as what appears to be a Japanese kind of talisman. She starts with the tea.

"Thank you."

He addresses himself as a German, but he's careful to speak in English. The young girl wonders if there's a reason for this.

"I'm not a Spirit Walker." Taking the teacup to her mouth but restraining herself from taking a sip, "I say my 'dreams,' but it's my real, physical body that travels," now she takes a drink. Afterwords, she places the cup and saucer on the table. She gently handles the talisman, "I received this from a shrine maiden on the other side."

Hearing this, Hróðvitnisson nearly chokes on the tea currently trickling down his throat. The cup rattles and he's forced to put it down.

"You bring things back?"

Maribel nods, "That's right. I have a lot more, but they'd be no interest to you. This talisman is particularly important to Gensokyo."

The older man draws closer.

"This belonged to a priest of the Hakurei Shrine."

"Hakurei," Hróðvitnisson makes a mental note.

"Yes. She identified herself as one."

He reaches for it, but the girl yanks it away before he can. Other than grumbling, he doesn't protest.

"The Hakurei are an obscure family who trains young women in, well, let's just call it shinto magic. If there's a Hakurei Shrine in Gensokyo, that must mean the two are very closely related."

"Wait a minute," Hróðvitnisson interrupt, the nagging he felt he finally identifies "you make it sound like they're on _this_ side as well."

Nodding, "They are. There are Hakurei Shrines in our world _and_ Gensokyo. It's clear they know how to travel between the two worlds."

He's about ready to leap out of his chair, "Then I just need to go to them!"

"Wait a minute!" she stops him. "Don't even approach the Hakurei main temple or family! The Hearn Family has their connections, and anyone who approaches the Hakurei on _this_ side disappears. I don't know if that means they've made it to Gensokyo, but it's possible they've been eliminated by the very same people who could have gotten them there. I don't think it's safe to even let them know you're looking. Not to mention the demon they keep."

"Demon?" his voice is a little shaken.

As Maribel nods, her expression darkens, "Yes. She's a thousand year old demon that keeps the Hakurei in power. That beast is the only one who can travel to and from Gensokyo as she wishes. She's been known to take the form of a human woman or a nine-tailed fox. Her name is Yakumo."

"Yakumo," he makes another mental note.

"Yes. If you catch _her_ attention, I guarantee it won't end pretty. The Hakurei are human and can be reasoned with, but demons, or as they call them in this land, youkai, aren't the type to consider others. Whatever their mood at the time will determine your fate. It's too risky to try and seek her."

Absorbing all this, Hróðvitnisson takes a sip and deliberates. After a few moments,

"All you've told me about are things I should avoid, but I take it there's something you know. Something that could get me there despite all the risks."

Maribel nods, but she's not quick to give him an answer. Several moments pass with the two simply staring, reading the other for all possible thoughts and emotions.

"If I tell you," Maribel warns, "there's only a fifty/fifty chance at best you'll make it to Gensokyo. If you don't, you mustn't, no matter the circumstances, ever try to enter Gensokyo again. You could call it a trial. There's no risk if you fail, but if you fail you're put on their radar. If that happens they'll make sure you never get there, one way or the other. Of that I'm sure. I need you to promise me that if you fail, you never try to go there again."

"I make no such promise," he boldly states, jarring the little girl somewhat. "I'll heed all your advice, but I'm no helpless old man. If I have to I'll drag out that Yakumo demon and force her to take me to Gensokyo. You've already told me more than I need to know. You need not risk yourself further by associating with me."

Anything to get what he wants, is what she thought. Speaking with Maribel and getting to Gensokyo are only means, his true goal something much greater. This thing he seeks must pail in comparison to the devils that stand in his path. But the Yakumo Demon isn't some lumbering gate guardian. She's the precious yet fragile jewel that may grant wishes or takes them away. If Hróðvitnisson isn't all bluster and means what he says, the two should never cross paths. While Maribel holds no power to prevent this, she can at least keep it from being assured.

"Okay," she surrenders. "I can't put myself or my family at risk, so I can't tell you the exact location, but somewhere in Japan there's a Hakurei Shrine that the Hakurei themselves don't dare approach. To them it's as precious as holy ground, yet at the same time they fear it tremendously. If you find that place and go there, you will not be obstructed. It's the vortex between the two worlds, and if you can manage to cross over from that point, you'll be in Gensokyo. If you can't, however, it'll be nothing more than a dirty dilapidated shrine. If that's all you find it means Gensokyo hasn't chosen you to enter, and from that point it will do it's best to keep you out. No mater how resourceful you are, you'll be challenging an entire world. Don't underestimate how powerful it can be."

Just as she proclaimed, Hróðvitnisson hung on every word. As experienced and wise as he appears, he knows not to disregard the warnings of even a child. On the exterior he appears calm, but a single bead of sweat rolling from his brow depicts a nervous old soul. That's good. He's taken her message to heart.

"I thank you for everything you've shared," he bows his head to her. "It really was worth my time to come find you." Hróðvitnisson takes a stand.

Following the lead of her guest, Maribel tells him one final time, "I would rather you quit seeking Gensokyo altogether."

"I've lost something very dear and I'll scour every corner of this world and every other to find it. Your concern is appreciated, but I can't stop until it's once again mine."

"Goodbye then. I wish you the best of luck."

Maribel Hearn watches the polite yet eager potbellied man exit her house and leave. Watching him head into his car and vanish down the hill, she traces every detail of him into memory. She was certain she'd never see him again.

And she never did.

* * *

_Sorry for the long wait, but _*stuff*_ happens. And boy has _*stuff*_ been happening to me. I won't make any promises; don't expect releases on any kind of schedule like the previous two installments. Honestly I don't even know if I'll be able to finish the series. Not that I'm brain-fried and can't think what to write, but that I'll be physically able to put forth all the time necessary to do so. I could probably write a full novel on what's happened to me these past 2 or 3 months alone, but I'll do what I can and try my best to finish what I started._

_Now, all the gloom out of the way,_

_This prologue is somewhat short but gives you a taste of the new direction in this finale. This is the encounter between Maribel and Hati as told by Ulrika back in AotS. As a funny tidbit, I always intended to write in detail of this meeting (as I just have) but never in this way. When I finished Advent and started planning for Song, I was worried that the final volume was going to run too short. Then an idea came to me. It's common advice for writers to start as close to the conclusion as possible. Well, in this case I started after it was all over (not really a spoiler, you'll figure it out rather quickly next chapter). Not only that, but tell it from the viewpoint of someone who seems completely unrelated. I think a fresh perspective is always great, but it also adds an element that wasn't present in either of it's predecessors, the real world. Not only will things be taking place in Gensokyo, but in the human world as well. I hope you enjoy the way I will fuse the two together to tell one story._

_That's all I'll write for now. I always want to give out little spoilers in these post-scripts, so I have to "cut myself off" (how many times have I said that by now?) so I don't ruin the reading experience. Sometimes I just get carried away._

_~Kyle Castorena_


	2. Act 12 One Life's Worth

Act 12

One Life's Worth

Crash

As she rolls over in bed, her arm swings and knocks everything off the end table. All the containers fly and the tablets and capsules inside spill and patter onto the carpet. There are dozens of bottles, each with their own prescription drugs inside. Described on the Rx are for symptoms of insomnia, manic depression, schizophrenia, blood pressure, heart arrhythmia, and a slew of other very serious medical issues. Having them scattered and mixed up upon the floor could possibly be disastrous. Each and every one of them seem powerful and important.

With her hand now throbbing she rubs them together to ease the pain, all the while eyes still closed from drowsiness. Light floods the room from the lazy and unevenly drawn shades. By the intensity it's clearly midday. The woman's eyes crack open, darkened and slightly swollen from what one would expect is lack of sleep. Despite appearing tired, nobody would be able to tell she'd just slept for over 12 hours. This woman is a mess in more ways than one.

It's been a while since she had a dream like that. Normally her dreams bring nothing but misfortune, literally, but for her to relieve a memory from her past is perhaps lucky. This is Maribel Hearn, far removed from the pretty little girl she was so very long ago.

Exhausting herself, she manages to pull herself out of bed. Her feet crunch the medications underneath, but she's halfway through the room before she even realizes it. Feeling something sticking between her toes and finally getting irritated enough to look, she finds all her pills littered on the carpet. She groans, "have to sort them out later," but otherwise disregards them. She heads out of her bedroom.

But before she does, she takes a peek at herself in the mirror. That bright and somewhat mademoiselle-like little girl had been lost under the weight of reality. Much of her cherubim face remains, but there's wrinkles around her eyes and a solid line between her brow. What was once exuberant and vivid blonde hair has faded and nearly turned a shade of gray, not to mention it's stringy and frayed from not being washed in days. In her disheveled pajamas one of her breasts hangs half exposed. With her age what it is, she shouldn't be surprised to see that they've begun to sag, but it's not like she has anyone to whom she could flaunt them. Also she notices her ribs over her belly. She's losing weight again. Maribel has to make sure to focus on eating, even if it means forcing it.

Speaking of which, for the first time in a while she's hungry. She should still have food, but then again she doesn't remember when last she shopped for groceries. Normally it's her agent who takes care of all that.

Shuffling through the hallways, Maribel drags herself through what is too clean to be her home, at least compared to her bedroom. The antics of her wakening this morning should be enough of a indication about how she lives her life, yet her house is luxurious and well-kept. There's no hint of litter, no speck of dust, not a single granule of dirt. Likewise is there elegant décor. From paintings, vases, and other works of art. In this house she lives alone, so it's not particularly large, but it's filled with what one wouldn't expect belonged. It's a curious thing.

After banging her hip on the dinning room table, Maribel makes it into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she finds a near-barren food storage container. There's some milk, eggs, bologna, and a few other things she can't identify or have expired and become something completely different. She thought she at least had some beer or wine, but with all the drugs she's on her agent insisted she throw them all out. Maribel never intended to do so, but perhaps that meddler went ahead and did it for her. Well, whatever. In retrospect, all the alcohol never really helped, at least nowhere to the degree all those pills did. Some vague voice in her head tries to convince her that the pills _and_ booze would make her feel that much better, but all the doctors telling her otherwise probably had the right idea. She won't particularly miss it.

Taking the milk, she pulls it out of the refrigerator and sniffs inside. It didn't really help because at the moment she can't remember what milk's supposed to smell like. It doesn't smell sour, but does that mean it's any good. She swishes it around in the carton, but can't really tell if that helped distinguish it any. Reading the expiration date, this information means nothing as the woman has no clue what day it is. Well, it's good or it's not. Worse that can happen is that she gets a little sick, right? And she's used to being sick. She's gotta have a pill for that somewhere.

There's a knock at the door.

Digging through the pantry, she finds dozens of boxes of cereal. If she has this much cereal, why doesn't she have an equal amount of milk? She'll have to have a word with her agent about this.

There's another knock, and the doorbell is rung.

As it so turns out, about half the boxes are empty, or near empty to the point there's not enough cereal for even a single bowl. As they're only wasting space, they need to be thrown away. Still, she ignores the empties until she finds one that's not. It's not her favorite brand as it doesn't have enough sugar, but decides on it anyway as she's tired of looking. For a moment she thought she'd have to reuse a bowl and spoon, but fate is with her as there are two clean and ready for use. It must be her lucky day.

There's more banging, plus someone is yelling for her from outside.

Pouring herself a bowl, she reaches for the remote and turns on the wall-mounted flat-screen in the corner of the room. Of all things, the remote is in it's rightful place. As it's the last channel she watched, the TV lights on with the world event news. Strangely enough Maribel finds this acceptable and continues to watch.

Now instead of the door, there's tapping on glass. A person has approached the window and is peeking inside.

To respond, Maribel cranks up the volume. Noticing they're being drowned out, the banging on the door becomes that much louder.

"Shut up!" Maribel screams, the competing volumes becoming too much for her ears this early in the afternoon.

After acknowledging that someone is in fact at the door, Maribel has something of a revelation. Someone is at the door! That never happens! Her agent always lets herself in, so it couldn't be her. Aside from that meddlesome person, who in the world would come visit her? Unless it's a tax collector. If it is than she could be in trouble! But she thought she had everything in order. Maybe her agent finally decided to become a crook and is ripping her off. It's possible, but Maribel couldn't say for sure. Maybe she should actually open the door and see who it is.

"Alright, coming!" she yells, turning down the news.

Stubbing her toe into the wall, she curses as she opens the door, "Damnit-shit! Yeah, hello? What do you want?"

Before her are a man-woman pair who don't particularly match. The man is little more than a kid, probably barely old enough to drink. He might be past his teens but he's got one of those childish faces which makes his age difficult to determine. Fluffy brown hair has been combed back giving him an somewhat sleek look, but his large dark eyes impose a son trying on his daddy's clothes. But there's something odd about him, something otherworldly. Appearing of Asian descent, there's strange quirks here and there, like the shape of his ears and his pointed brow, that symbolize the opposite. Maribel can't guess his true nation of origin.

To his side is a rather lovely woman. Or maybe girl. Her age is also most difficult to determine. Aside from that she appears English in origin, judging by her eyes, nose, and chin. She's got the most peculiar silver hair. Maribel would say it's unnatural, but her brows and eyelashes also match hues. It'd be one thing if it were more of an ash-blonde, but it's bonafide silver! Where in the world do people grow like that?

They're dressed in formal, office-like attire. Both in dark suits, the man wearing slacks and the woman in a long miniskirt. She's actually slightly taller than the man, who's only a hair's reach taller than Maribel. Whatever it is these two want, they mean business.

"Uh, um," the man stutters. He also doesn't appear to know where to look.

"Ahem," the silver-haired woman clears her throat.

She steps in front of the man and approaches very closely to Maribel. She reaches for her pajamas and begins to button them up. Apparently Maribel's entire boob was hanging out of her dress.

As she's repairing the homeowner's nonexistent modesty, "We're here because we have a proposition for you, Maribel Han."

"Hearn," she corrects the woman.

She pauses a moment as if surprised, "Yes, my apologies, Miss Hearn. My name is Sakuya Izayoi."

Sakuya finishes, aligns the pajamas straight, and then brushes Maribel's shoulder for specks which might be dandruff. The way she did this so naturally makes the older woman think she's done this kind of thing before. A lot before.

"And I'm Clark Francis Xavier. It's a pleasure to meet you."

An English woman with an Japanese name, and an Asian-like man with a Spanish name. These two are definitely the odd couple. Sakuya also made the mistake of mispronouncing Hearn, an occurrence that was very common when Maribel was growing up in Japan. At least with this Maribel has an idea of with whom she's dealing.

"Yeah yeah," Maribel disregards them. "Whatever you want, we can talk about this inside. Come on in."

She welcomed them, but otherwise turns her back and returns to her breakfast. Not quite sure what to expect, the two look at each other, shrug shoulders, and then enter, closing the door behind them. After slightly being stalled by all the beautiful artwork, they find their host munching on sugar-infused wheat flakes, eyes glued on the TV and current events around the world. She actually seems interested in this.

"You have quite the collection," Sakuya tries to make small talk. "I noticed some by Rembrandt, Caravaggio, and Elsheimer. Are they originals?"

"Who?" Maribel asks. "If you're talking about the painting, my agent collects them for me. If you have any questions ask her."

Though she seemed glued on the TV, and still is, Maribel heard everything that was said and responded. With this kind of person, pleasantries are a waste of time. It's best that they get down to business.

"Did your boss fall in love with my writing style or something?" Maribel cuts Sakuya off before she could explain. "Want to hire me to ghost write or something?"

"Maribel Hearn, obscure fantasy novel author. Apparently your books are selling better than one would expect."

"Antiquities collection is my real source of income. I have a 'knack' for finding rare and valuable pieces of art, literature, and history. My house isn't as much of a gallery as it is a storage room. All this stuff gets shuffled around a lot, so I don't really have an idea of what I got right now. So are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"We're in need of your talents," Clark speaks for the first time in a while, "but not your literary ones."

"You don't want me to write a book?" Maribel asks, clicking up the volume some. "I'm not good for much else. So what do you want?"

"First of all," Sakuya takes over again, "we come representing the Scarlet Foundation. Are you aware of the Scarlet Foundation?"

"Yeah," Maribel seems even less interested than before. "Couple years back they tried to buy out the rights to my novel franchise. I didn't understand the interest in it. If I took the deal I wouldn't have been able to write it anymore, but I wasn't selling enough that _they_ could make any profit from it. The amount they offered me was too much so I turned it down. I don't like getting into bed with shady types of characters."

"That's right," Sakuya acknowledges. "I'm aware of that particular offer, but that's not why we're here today. But it is about your books."

"Doing movie versions?"

"No."

"Graphic novel? TV show?"

"No."

"I should have guessed not. If it were that type of deal you would have gotten in touch with my agent. If you've come here to meet me personally, it can only be more shadier than before."

Sakuya sighs. It seems she isn't being trusted at all.

"_Perfect Cherry Blossom_, _Imperishable Night_, _Mountain of Faith_, _Subterranean Animism_. These are the fantasy novels you've written. But my absolute favorite is _Embodiment of the Scarlet Devil_."

Maribel actually turns away from the TV, "Seriously? That was considered one of my lousiest works. I got tons of complaints that readers couldn't understand why the Scarlet Devil released the mist in the first place. It was shunned in the literary world."

Smiling, Sakuya gives her opinion. "I think the reasoning actually lies within the villain's henchmen, the Timeless Maid. The Timeless Maid was a human who turned her back on humanity, but after being confronted by the intruders, she began to change. In _Perfect Cherry Blossom_ and following novels, you see how the entire Scarlet Devil Household had nearly turned into a force of good, despite their occasional episodes of selfishness. The biggest change being the Timeless Maid, who does a complete 180 and turns into a kind of silent hero. The Scarlet Devil released the mist _to_ attract the intruders, forcing the Timeless Maid out of her hole and into a much greater world. Because of that incident, a great many things had been affected afterwords. It was the _pebble that triggered an avalanche_."

Maribel's fist slams into the table, greatly startling everyone. The now-empty bowl falls onto the carpet, droplets of milk spotting the blue color with white. Both her guests can't think to respond and only stare.

"Sorry about that," Maribel mumbles, proceeding to pick up after herself.

Sakuya's phrase trigger a memory within her she'd rather forget. Actually, basically every memory is one she'd want to forget. This talk of her novels was kind of fun, but if they linger on the subject for too long she'll be reminded more and more of those things she wished to avoid.

"Are you finally going to tell me why you're here?" Maribel makes no effort to mask the sour tone of her voice.

"I'm getting there," Sakuya assures. "It actually has a great deal to do with your novels. In _Embodiment of the Scarlet Devil_, there was a character that almost seemed to serve no purpose. Why did you decide to include the Tomboyish Ice Fairy?"

This actually brings a bit of a smile to her lips, "The Tomboyish Ice Fairy? At first she was a bit of comic relief. But then she became a mascot-type character, and eventually a fan favorite."

"Is that why you decided to write the _Great Fairy Wars_?"

Maribel's sight slightly dodges to the side, "Yeah. I consider it one of my best works. It had the most discussion, both good and bad. When you get people talking, no mater what they say, you know you've done something right."

"_How do you get the inspiration for your novels?_"

Maribel accidentally knocks a chair over. Her pulse is racing and she immediately breaks out in a sweat. The words out of Sakuya's mouth felt to Maribel like a veiled threat. Did she perhaps leak something in her tone? They couldn't be here for _that_, could they? No, it's impossible. Outside her family, only one other person knows; Maribel's best and only friend. They've had a bit of a falling out, but she wouldn't spread any kind of rumors, would she?

Maribel tries to play it off, "They're just metaphors of the life I've led and the things I've run across."

Sakuya's eyes sharpen slightly, what wouldn't be noticed by anyone other than the most observant of people, "Maribel Hearn, Relative Psychology major of the University of Kyoto, or Kyodai. You were smart, pretty, and blew through your classes with ease. But then halfway through grad school, something happened."

"Stop it!" Maribel screams.

Clark was startled by the outburst, but Sakuya seemed to expect it.

"It seems none of us need to be reminded of it, so I'll continue no further. After _that_ your life took a rather wild turn, and one could accept that it be the fuel for your eventual novels."

Even after dropping _that_ subject, Maribel is no less tense.

"But all of us here knows it's a lie. That's your rehearsed answer. That's the response you give so that they'll accept these strange and wondrous worlds you create. But that's not the truth. If they learned _that_ 'truth' nobody would believe you. You'd be thrown back into the asylum it took you nearly five years to escape. You've had a more _direct_ form of artistic influence."

"What are you talking about?" Maribel is obviously nervous.

"Maribel Hearn, _do you believe in magic_?"

They can visibly see something shattering inside of the woman.

"Get out!" Maribel screams. "Get the hell out of my house!"

She continues to curse at them, reaching for a nearby butcher's knife in the kitchen. Brandishing it like a fly swatter, she flings it back and forth rather dangerously. Panicked, Clark bolts for the door. Sakuya too realizes they've outstayed their welcome, but exits calmly without the fanfare. Quietly she closes the door behind her.

Seeing that she's chased away the intruders, Maribel's already fragile state begins to break apart. Being hit with all the things she wanted to ignore and forget, she cries and sobs loudly.

The Outsiders

"Sakuya-neesan," Clark's finally gathered himself enough to speak when they are in the car, "you were starting to scare me back there."

Painfully does Sakuya smile, "I guess I overdid it a bi-"

Her body jerks forward as she suddenly starts violently coughing. Their car jerks to the side and Clark has to reach for the wheel and drive. Thankfully there's not any traffic out and they don't get into a head-on collision, but they still run the risk of running off the road. The man has to basically dive into her lap so that he can get both hands on the wheel. By some miracle he keeps the vehicle from going out of control. Once Sakuya calms down, she retakes the wheel and eases to the side of the road. They park.

"I keep forgetting that my body can't keep up with my spirit anymore."

"Do you need me to take over neesan?"

Sakuya coughs some more, but nowhere near as bad as before.

"Yes. Please."

They get out of the car and shift positions. Clark takes the wheel.

"Why were you being so mean to Han...Hearn-san? Do we really need to go so far to convince her?"

Heavily does Sakuya breathe, but even if it's only been seconds later she appears a lot healthier.

"I knew I would hurt her if I mentioned _that_, but I had no idea it would effect her so much. I've never been a mother, so I have no idea what it's like to lose your baby."

Clark hits "drive" and gets back on the road.

"That whole part of Maribel-san's file is a blur, isn't it? We don't even know who the father was."

"It's because it's a mystery that I had to bring it up. Giving the timing of her loss and her admittance into the asylum, it's clear that _it_ was the cause of her turning her back on her power. No one could blame her for it, and nobody could tell her that what she's doing is wrong. But we have need of that power. If there was another way, if there was any other person who can do what she can, then I'd leave this poor woman alone. But we can't. We _have_ to find out what happened 30 years ago, and she's the only one who can do it."

Their conversation from this point is nothing but the ethics of persuading, or provoking, Maribel Hearn into doing what they want. The rest of the drive to their motel continues with only this debate, and there's no real conclusion once they're settled in their room. Eventually they call it quits and turn in for the night.

This pair's journey to The Pine Tree State was planned long in advance. To them, Maribel _Hearn_ was a name long-since famous. So too is her power. When she sleeps she can break through barriers and travel to different worlds. To those in this normal human world, she's just a low-key author, but to those in other worlds she's infamous. Nearly all see her as a threat and a danger, but with the randomness of her appearances she's been impossible to interrogate, apprehend, or eliminate. Her absolute freedom could potentially allow her access to some of the most closely guarded secrets in the whole of reality. Even if Maribel herself may not realize it, she perhaps holds the knowledge to destroy worlds or even save them. Her brain could be considered the greatest library of forbidden knowledge. Each and every demon, youkai, and otherwise, would pay any price to get their hands on this information.

But in the human world she is just a second-rate fantasy author and drug addict. Still, the modicum of fame has her enlisted in a protected class. A celebrity class. Tracking down Maribel Hearn, pen name Mary Patrick Lafcadio, has been a difficult path indeed. A great deal of time and resources have gone into this investigation, and now that they've finally found her the process of enlisting her cooperation must be achieved with equal parts perseverance and delicacy. The two dispatched have made preparations to work on this for as long as it takes.

It's the middle of the night when their door is broken down.

With timing impossible to coordinate without the most highly trained and highly skilled operatives, the door to their motel room is knocked down with a battering ram. Upon coming in contact with the hard wood surface, within the hand-held cylinder a piston is fired. The door bursts off it's hinges and flies into the room. Before this maneuver, an operative in black Kevlar armor pulls the pin on a flash grenade, and after the breach he tosses it into the room. It barely touches the ground by the time the magnesium and ammonium perchlorate ignite, exploding in a deafening "bang" and burning with blinding light. Anyone inside and too close to the grenade would either be knocked unconscious or stunned, stripped of their sight and hearing. Immediately afterwords the armed men storm into the room.

"Clear!" is broadcast over the radio.

Not speaking directly into the mic, one of the men can be overheard, "Huh, where did they go?"

"Ma'am, the targets aren't here. I thought we had confirmation."

The pair's motel room overlooks the parking lot. From down below, several white vans are parked haphazardly, creating a sort of barrier protecting a white sedan safely behind them. At the sedan a woman with glasses, light brown hair tied up in a bun, and a suit and miniskirt, holds the radio close to her lips. It's clear she's the "ma'am" commanding them.

"Stand down," she orders them. "They're right here."

A knife is held against her throat. Directly behind her is the silver-haired Sakuya Izayoi, and Clark Francis Xavier holding a gun against the head of a soldier-like operative wearing goggles, who has yet to notice them until notified on the radio.

"Impossible," he mumbles when he turns and finds they got the drop on him.

"I would say impressive," the woman held hostage tells Sakuya, "but the correct word should be 'impossible.' We confirmed your heat signature before we breached the door, didn't we Harold?"

The soldier responds, "They...they just suddenly vanished!"

Just now the operatives who breached the room find their targets holding up their commander. They draw their weapons and use their vantage to lock on to the hostiles.

"Hold your fire!" the female commander orders.

They don't visibly respond, but they haven't started shooting either. They're not in the position to hit Sakuya and Clark without endangering their superior officer. Still, it's not like they'll simply lower their guns.

"Who are you people and what do you want?" the woman held hostage surprisingly asks.

"That should be my question," Sakuya retorts. "You break into our room, disturb all these people's sleep," other guests of the motel are peeking out their rooms, being ordered to go back inside by the soldier-like men, "and you ask who _we_ are? I don't believe we've done anything to warrant such extreme and reckless retaliation. _I_ have the knife to _your_ neck, so you'll be answering _my_ questions. Let's start with your name and who you work for."

For a moment the lady is silent, perhaps calculating risk assessment for divulging such information. Or maybe she's debating if Sakuya is bluffing, but when the knife is pressed harder against her throat and draws blood, the woman recognizes that Sakuya would lose no sleep by ending her life.

"My name is Irene Greene, Literary Agent to Maribel Hearn. You paid her a visit this afternoon, have you not?"

They were being watched? Sakuya was careful to look for anyone who might have been observing them, but she noticed and felt nothing. Something is up.

"How did you know?" Then a thought occurs to her. While there were some heated words with Maribel, they really didn't do anything to excuse their room being raided, unless, "Did something happen to Maribel?"

Again Irene is quiet for a few moments before responding. She seems to be a deeply thinking and calculating woman.

"It'd be best if I just showed you. I'm going to grab my phone."

In a very slow motion, Irene reaches into her breast pocket and retrieves her long slim phone. It looks more like a clear black plastic strip than an actual device. But sure enough the moment she touches it it lights up with bright colors and sharp graphics. After imputing her personal identification code, a group of small icons appears. She presses one that has a picture of a heart and medical cross.

Lifting it up so Sakuya can see, "This is the Big Brother Heart Monitor." On the screen it is titled 'Maribel Hearn,' and '0 bpm (offline).' "It alerts me when Maribel's heart rate falls below or rises above a certain level."

Messing with the phone some more, the screen now depicts a view from what must be Maribel's front door. With the heartbeat monitor in the corner, Sakuya sees her and Clark driving up to the house.

"You guys came to visit her today, but when you left it was like this."

Irene fast-fowards through the recording to the point the pair leave. As they're driving away,

"As you can see, her heart is racing. Whatever it was the three of you were talking about, it greatly upset her."

"She has a heart condition?" Sakuya earnestly asks.

"Maribel has several conditions, but her heart is just fine. However, she's on so much medication that the slightly wrong dosage could kill her. This is why I have an alarm to warn me if something goes wrong."

Maribel's registered rate at this point is averaging about 115 bpm, nothing terribly noticeable. However, a little while after the pair were shown leaving, there's a sudden and drastic drop to about 30, and it continues to grow lower after that.

"What happened?" Sakuya's voice is excited.

Only shown on the phone is the view of the front door. There must not be any cameras other than this one.

Irene details, "We found Maribel collapsed near her bed, her medication scattered all around her on the floor. She'd," her voice cracks, showing emotion for the first time even while she was being held hostage, "she'd ingest several times above a safe dosage. She in the hospital ER right now."

Involuntarily does the Sakuya loosen the grip on her knife. Because of what Sakuya said, Maribel overdosed on drugs? While the silver-haired maiden felt the fantasy author was a tad weird, she'd met plenty of weird and twisted people before. Never did she expect that Maribel would be _this_ unstable! What has she done?

"This is a small town and strangers stick out like a sore thumb," Irene tells her, her tone recovering quickly. "It didn't take us long to find you guys. I want to know who you guys are and what you talked about."

"What kind of author has her own goon squad?" Sakuya retorts in a snarky voice, trying her best to deflect the incredible guilt she's feeling right now.

"You can get just about anything these days with just a phone call or email. I hired them to come gather you as suspects for a possible intended murder. It seems my instinct was right, but I didn't anticipate I'd need at least twice as many guns."

Sakuya's still in the position of power, so she'll answer none of Irene's questions. However, there's still much concern.

"How's Maribel doing?"

"Her stomach was pumped for the excess drugs and she was started on detox, but she's on very heavy medication that's barely legal as it is. She's fallen in a coma."

This wasn't supposed to happen! Sakuya and Clark came here to convince Maribel to offer her unique talents, but everything's been turned on it's head so drastically and rapidly that their entire mission is in jeopardy of failure right from the get go. They hadn't the slightest idea how thin the line they treaded when handling Maribel! Oh how they've messed up!

Another violent attack strikes Sakuya. The rising panic from their escalating situation coupled with the use of her "abilitie," have the silver-haired maiden collapsing on the ground like a senior citizen after fooling herself into running a marathon. Irene immediately lost from her grasp, Sakuya falls on her knees, coughing to the point Clark feared she might drop a lung. At the moment of release, her hostage immediately darts from capture and shields herself behind the back of the soldier covered by Clark. As their boss is now freed, all men ready their weapons to shoot, with or without orders. Clark is now the only one still displaying obstinate having lost their only card at play, but he seems more worried about his companion.

"Sakuya-neesan!" he calls, keeping his handgun pointed forward at the nearest soldier. "Are you alright?"

She's in no condition to respond, looking like she might need medical attention same as Maribel. The intensity of the situation increases with each passing second. These men's patience is dwindling and they may forcibly close this situation at any moment. To this point Sakuya has been calling the shots, but she's now incapacitated at the most crucial moment! He has to make a decision.

"Alright!" he shouts. "I surrender!"

Raising his hands, he points his gun harmlessly in the air. The situation feels no less tense, but at least he knows they won't be shot out of impatience. They've officially surrendered so now they must be taken alive. As long as he cooperates and makes no sudden or stupid movements they'll live to see tomorrow.

Keeping his gun locked on to Clark, the soldier cautiously approaches the armed man. But before he takes the man's handgun, he kicks away Sakuya's dropped knife.

"Ma'am, if you would please."

Irene follows the order without hesitation or fear. She quickly approaches Clark from the side and yanks the gun from his hands. In a snap movement she turns it on it's owner.

"This is what's going to happen," her calm and leveled tone doesn't change a bit now that she's the one that's got the gun on them. "These fine men are going to restrain you, then you're going to get in that van and we're gonna have a little drive. You're going to tell me who you are, what you're doing here, everything. Got that?"

"We never wanted anyone to get hurt," he tells her.

"Maybe, maybe not. But that's not what happened," other hired guns are approaching, two still on the upper level covering from a vantage point. "If you've come for Maribel it can't be for anything good."

A soldier heads to Clark's rear and pats him down. He finds no weapons, but he does a small thin steel container. He immediately takes it. After he's finished he forcibly pulls down Clark's arms and zipties his thumbs together. He then goes to Sakuya to do the same thing, but hesitates.

"Ma'am," he calls out to Irene, "she doesn't look to good."

"In that container you took from me," Clark speaks out, "is her medication. There's a tube attached to her heart. If you'd be so kind as to inject it into that."

"Ma'am?" he asks for permission.

Irene deliberates for a moment.

"I'll do it. Take him away."

One of the soldiers starts to lead Clark to the van.

"Only give her half!" he yells.

Irene picks up the container and opens it. Inside is a syringe with some silver-ish, metallic liquid.

"What the hell is this?" she can't help herself from being flabbergasted.

Clark doesn't reply, but otherwise cooperates and is led to the van.

Not a shot has been fired tonight and not a single life lost. Irene would rather keep it that way since if this woman dies, she loses all chance of getting any answers out of anyone. A zero body count was her terms in hiring this squad, but the human element always makes such a thing difficult. Luckily no one was harmed so these men's limits weren't tested. Violence is the last thing these two seem to want as well. It's best that everyone stays healthy.

Irene unbuttons Sakuya's jacket and opens her blouse. Just like she was told there's a feeding tube going straight into the woman's chest. Whatever they wanted from Maribel couldn't have been too dangerous, otherwise they wouldn't have sent such a fragile woman. Sakuya seems ready to keel over despite her youth at any moment. But then again she _was_ armed, the both of them. Irene can't be too careful.

As instructed, Irene injects half the metallic liquid into the tube. Sakuya's torment ceases nearly immediately. Her recovery is miraculous as color returns to her face and she seems healthier with each passing second. It's best they confine the silver-haired woman before she get's _too_ much of her energy back.

"Hurry," Irene orders.

Wasting not a moment, the remaining soldier gets behind Sakuya and zipties her same as Clark. Afterwords he lifts her up and leads the captured woman to the van. Sakuya walks well enough on her own, but the man seems to think she must still be incredibly weak after coughing like that for so long. In truth she's nearly a hundred percent, but she allows herself to be handled like a docile flower. It's best they continue to think she has ceased being a threat.

Proof

"Where are you taking us?" Clark asks after they've been driving for a few minutes.

"To the middle of the desert," receives a chuckle from the other hired goons.

"Quiet!" Irene snaps at them. Turning back to Clark and Sakuya, "Where we're going doesn't matter at this point. I'm the one with the firepower so now it's time for you to answer my questions."

Clark looks to Sakuya, but his partner's stare is vague and unfocused. He knows she should be far better than she appears, so he knows she's plotting something. He'll have to answer all the "literary agent's" questions.

"Alright. We would have preferred to talk this all out from the beginning, but you guys were the ones who came in guns blazing."

"Who are you people?"

"My name is Clark Francis Xavier, and this lovely woman is Sakuya Izayoi."

Irene looks at the both of them with a bit of suspicion, "I guess your real names don't matter."

But those were their real names.

"What did you say to Maribel?"

"We wanted to ask for her help with something, but we never really got around to it."

"What do you mean?"

"She got angry and started swinging a knife at us."

Irene stops and ponders this for a moment. She didn't seems that surprised. Does this kind of thing happen often?

"What _exactly_ did you say to her?"

"We mentioned her lost baby, which turned out to be a very bad idea."

Irene nods, "Anything else?"

Exactly how much should he mention here? Actually, if Sakuya's planning what he thinks she is, they'll pretty much figure it out on their own. He might as well be completely honest.

"We asked her, '_Do you believe in magic?'_"

Of course confusion rises on Irene's face, and a couple of the hired soldiers even chuckle at this. She brings her hand on her chin and ponders on this.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

To Maribel such a phrase should hold great significance, but a normal human wouldn't understand. Irene doesn't seem to get it either, as her expression runs through a complex set of emotions while she tries to-

Snapping Clark's gun up and aiming, she points death straight between the man's eyes and pulls back the hammer.

"Who-no, _what_ are you?" she suddenly screams.

Everyone's startled, the soldiers frantically reach for their guns not necessarily knowing what's going on. Apparently she has at least a vague hint what was meant.

"Do _you_ believe in magic?" Clark asks of her.

The driver's side door is open and Sakuya kicks the man out of the moving vehicle. Startling Irene, she recognizes the incredible danger of the situation and pulls the trigger.

The gun is suddenly in the man's hand.

"Shoot!" she orders.

But the soldiers trip and fall over despite sitting down. As they fall face first she can see behind their back. All their hands are ziptied like Clark and Sakuya's should be. In a flash the situation's been completely reversed, just like the moment they breached the motel room. This isn't human!

"You're monsters, aren't you?" Irene accuses.

Clark smiles.

"What the hell did you do?" one of the soldier's screams.

"Couldn't you tell? Magic!"

"Stop bullshitting me! I've never-"

"Keep your cool," Irene sternly warns him. "As far as I'm concerned you've done your job admirably, so you'll get paid, but it's best you forget what happened here tonight."

"What? What are you-"

"Can't you tell. These two are true, literal, monsters. They may wear human flesh but they're anything but. What we witnessed was actual magic."

Though her tone was calm, her hand is trembling noticeably. She holds her hands tight, trying to comfort herself. If she were dealing with humans she could handle the situation, but as she's not she's completely without a winning strategy. They operate by two completely different sets of rules. With such an unfair advantage, there's no way she could possibly beat them.

"What are your demands?" she submits.

Clark speaks with confidence, "First off it's really stuffy with all these dudes in here, so I think it's time we get rid of them."

"Clark," Sakuya somewhat moans.

"I know Sakuya-neesan. Irene-san, if we could lose this convoy that would also really help. Preferably before they start shooting at us and turn this entire van into Swiss Cheese."

They saw one of their companions getting kicked out of the vehicle, so of course they'd be growing in concern. In fact they're currently trying to cut Sakuya off and box them in with what vehicles they have remaining. There's been some aggressive driving, but have yet to fire a single shot.

"Okay," Irene submits, feeling the weight of the hired mercenaries' stares as she gives up without a fight.

There's a shell game that follows as the van pulls over and Irene concludes her contract with the freelancers. The men are reluctant to leave her in the jaws of the beast, but those are her orders and she ensures that they will receive their full payment. Afterwords they reconvene to the Literary Agent's sedan and leave the men and the vans in the taillights. After they're vanished from the rear view mirror, they continue their conversation. Clark takes the wheel and Sakuya joins Irene in the back seats.

Now that they're all alone, the three of them can speak the more openly.

"Just for the record," Sakuya sees how frightened Irene truly is and doesn't even bother keeping a gun on her, "I'm actually human."

"I'm not," Clark chimes in from behind the wheel.

"And what exactly are you?"

"A moon person."

Irene doesn't even bother with asking for an explanation.

"What are you guys after?"

"I told you," Sakuya takes over dishing out the answers, "we want Maribel's help."

Irene's hand reaches for her heart and she clenches at it tightly, greatly wrinkling what must be a very expensive suit, "I was always told this might happen some day, that one day someone may come for Maribel, and they may not be human. I never believed it, never believed his whole spiel about _magic_, but I guess it was all true after all."

"Who's _he_?"

"Maribel's grandfather. The Hearns have a legend passed through their family, that sometimes children are born with 'powers.' Her grandfather apparently has it, and so did her great great grandfather. It seems to skip generations."

"And those powers?"

"I don't know, exactly. Maribel would go missing sometimes, snatched right out of her bed, but she'd always reappear some time later. Because of this I was assigned to be my lady's bodyguard. I'm actually the fifth bodyguard she's had throughout her life, the rest either quitting or killing themselves. I only started working for the Hearns a little after she was released from the Asylum, just about the time she started on her medication. I've never seen her disappear myself, so I was always a bit skeptical. But seeing what the two of you could do, I guess everything I was told was true."

"I actually didn't do much," Clark tells her. "Sakuya-neesan was the one who used magic."

The _human_ used _magic_. This situation couldn't get any crazier.

"My time with her," Irene explains, "Maribel's biggest threat was herself. I'm trained in martial arts and use of weapons, but I was more of a nursemaid than a bodyguard. Then she started her writing and I began to help her with that. I guess those crazy stories never did come from her imagination, did they? They were real." An idea came to her, "Were any of you in them?"

"Several," Sakuya points out.

Irene half laughs, then looks to the driver.

"I've yet to make my literary debut," he chides.

A self-proclaimed moon person and he's yet to catch Maribel's notice? Go figure.

"What are you going to do to her?"

"I've said this before," Sakuya repeats herself, "we wish her no harm. We need her help, her power. I never realized that even asking her this would cause her so much pain. But we can't stop. If it's come to this, we have no choice but to help her."

"Help her? How? Use some more of your magic?"

Sakuya retrieves the metal container with the syringe, "With this."

Looking back through the rear view mirror, Clark shouts, "You can't! That's-"

"But it will work, right?" she cuts him off, allowing him to speak no more. "Not only will it wake her from her coma, but it will also flush out all the drugs in her system and reawaken her powers. Isn't that-"

"You can't!" Clark is let slipping a great amount of emotion in his tone. "That's a last resort, and it's the only thing sustaining your life on _this side_ at the moment! You've already used your power twice! If you have another attack-"

"I'm old, not dying," Sakuya disregards his concern. "The worst that will happen to me is that my _time_ will catch up with me. If it does only my appearance will change. It's been established that I will have the lifespan of a normal human despite my ability."

"But, you can only stop time, you can't reverse it. Any changes that could happen will be permanent."

"Oh? So that's your ploy. You want me to always be young and pretty, you sly fox. I'm sorry to break your heart, but I'm not an eternally ripe fruit, but a finely aged wine."

Irene had a hard enough time following the conversation, but then something suddenly hits her. All this talk about time reminds her of one of Maribel's characters.

"The Timeless Maid!"

"At your service," Sakuya bows, as space would allow in the back of the car, without hesitation. "Though her description of my character is incorrect. It's only on the outside that I fail to age. On the inside my heart beats at the same pace of every other human. Like them I have a completely similar lifespan."

Judging by Clark's concern, it's clear that her golden years are upon her. She must have a very limited number of years left.

"How old are you exactly?" Irene can't help herself from asking.

Sakuya smirks, "As a fellow woman you must understand how terribly rude your question is."

"Hmm," Clark ponders aloud. "She must be close to six-"

A knife is pressed against the driver's neck. Those soldiers never did give Sakuya a pat down like they did Clark.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?"

"No! Sakuya-neesan!"


End file.
